


The Mirror Man

by interlude



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, more characters and pairings to be added later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interlude/pseuds/interlude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchesters writes horror novels for a career and collects antiques as a secret hobby.</p>
<p>When he stumbles upon a mirror that sometimes shows a man with blue eyes instead of his own reflection, Dean starts to wonder if he's somehow stepped into one of his own ghost stories.</p>
<p>Until it starts to become a romance novel, instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mirror Man

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from tumblr, because the little oneshot I posted was getting enough attention. The only problem with continuing is that I don't have a plot in mind, so bear with me.

Dean had a guilty pleasure. It wasn’t anything inappropriate or dangerous - for him, at least; his wallet certainly suffered - but it wasn’t something he announced to everyone he knew. Or anyone, really.

The young male was an avid antique lover. Free time and weekends - when he wasn’t already scheduled to go drinking with friends or visiting his younger brother - often found him at antique shops or flea markets, diligently searching through the old and timeworn items for something worth buying. Most of the time, he enjoyed finding items that had potential and fixing them up before selling them again. It was the same reason he had loved working as a mechanic when he was still in high school - he liked being able to put something back together, make it right; liked knowing that it was his hands that had made something wonderful again.

Quite often, though, he stumbled upon something that he couldn’t bring himself to part with, and over the years, he had managed to acquire a rather large collection - one that not only filled the bedroom of his moderately sized apartment, but spilled into other rooms, hung on walls, and filled shelves. Canteens and gas masks from world wars, old tomes and books full of myths, old maps and journals, items with interesting histories or ghost stories surrounding them, and a large variety of old muskets, pistols, and shotguns.

To be honest, Dean was quite proud of his collection, even if he would never point any of the items out to friends and family who visited.

It was this habit - or obsession, depending on whom you asked - that dragged Dean to an old antique house one Saturday morning. There were little old ladies searching through silverware and furniture, young newly weds picking out beautiful chests and tables to fill their houses, and one young, freckle-faced male digging deep through the priceless junk for something special. After years of searching and digging, Dean had come to learn that the most precious and history-filled treasures were often small and overlooked, usually found buried beneath the other clutter.

After an hour or so of searching the large, overflowing room, Dean had yet to find anything that interested him; he was a little disappointed, to say the least, that no new pieces would be joining his collection that day. It was this disappointment that led him to asking the white haired, smiling owner whether she had anything else. She grinned at him, and happily led him to a back room, telling him he was free to look around as long as he liked.

Dean thanked her and immediately began his search once more, digging through books - a fleeting thought told him he should pick up something for his brother, Sam - and other knickknacks.

It was in the mess of old furniture and paintings and other such things that Dean found an old, full-body mirror. To be more accurate, he accidentally walked into it and nearly sent the old thing falling to the dusty storeroom floor. Fortunately, he was able to grab onto it before it met it’s unfortunate demise and hurried to set it up straight again. He let out a sigh of relief when it was standing upright again.

Lifting his head, Dean gave the mirror a quick glance over and quickly saw why it was in the back storage room and not out in front. The once ornate border was dented and chipped all over; some spots, especially at the corners, even had chunks missing. The glass, covered in dust and dirt, was noticeably scratched and scuffed, with one noticeable crack running along the left side in the bottom corner.

“Why is she keeping you?” Dean murmured to his reflection. “I mean, it’s not like you’re ever going to - ” He broke off, voice echoing slightly in the clutter-filled room. Perhaps it was just a trick of the eye or the fact that the dust on the mirror’s glass made it hard to see, but Dean could almost swear that his reflection’s mouth wasn’t moving with his words. In fact, now that he was looking, his reflection hardly looked like his reflection at all.

Grabbing the edge of his sleeve, he covered his hand, then leaned forward to swipe a line through the dust. And nearly fell backwards in shock.

Bright blue eyes stared back at him where Dean’s green eyes were supposed to be. And as he watched, they blinked.

.

Dean’s not sure what compelled him to do it. One minute he was staring at those blue eyes, the darker eyebrows above them, the other differences he could see behind the dust, and then he was charging back into the main room and demanding to know how much the full-body mirror in the back room was.

The owner seemed startled by his choice. Or perhaps it was the slight hysteria in his expression. Either way, she seemed to get over it after only a moment and gave him a large grin. “That old thing? How does $50 sound?”

Dean let out a shaky breath, running a hand nervously through his hair. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds great.”

He paid her and she called over one of the employees. The young man followed Dean back to the mirror and wrapped it up to protect the glass in the move – or at least protect it from any further damage. Dean watched him carefully, but the employee didn’t seem to notice anything odd. Uneasiness settled in his stomach at the thought that he had seen wrong – but at this point the mirror was paid for. It was his.

The employee helped him move the mirror out to the parking lot. It was good that Dean had thought ahead and asked to borrow his neighbor’s truck. He was never quite sure what he would find, and he didn’t want to take the chance that whatever he brought home wouldn’t fit in his Impala. Or worse, get it dirty.

They managed to fit it into the back of the truck, and after thanking the guy for his help, Dean headed home with his newly acquired, and possibly haunted, mirror.

.

"Why did you ask me to help you, again?” Charlie panted. Her hands slipped on the mirror and she quickly tried to get a better grip before Dean dropped the other half.

“Because,” Dean bit out, just as breathless, “Everyone else was busy and I can’t lift his alone.”

The pair struggled towards the doors of Dean’s apartment complex with the mirror held between them. They were forced to gently set the mirror down while Dean opened the door; he kept it open with his hip as they each picked up their side again and forced the mirror through with a great deal of difficulty.

The door hit Charlie in the back as it swung closed. “Ow,” she gasped, nearly dropping the mirror in surprise. “This is that kind of moment when I wish magic was real so I could wingardium leviosa the shit out of this. Dude, I work at computers for a living; I’m not cut out for this.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Think of it as Jedi training.” He winced at the glare she sent him and turned back to search for the elevators. “We’re almost there.”

After a few more steps of huffing and struggling, they made it to the elevators and set down the mirror so Dean could hit the button. They each held their breath for a moment once the elevator arrived, but the mirror fit and once they had gotten it inside they both collapsed up against the walls, breathing heavily.

“So what’s your excuse, Mr. Macho-Man? You were struggling as much as me,” Charlie asked once she had gotten her breath back.

“Writing isn’t really a super athletic profession.” He glanced away from her, directing his attention to the light displaying the floor number. “And I haven’t been to the gym in a while.”

“That would explain the recent belly.”

Dean glared at her, blushing slightly. “Oh shut up.” Charlie held up her hands in defense, grinning.

With a ding, the elevator came to a stop on the sixth floor and the doors opened. The two held back groans as they moved to pick the mirror back up and carried it to Dean’s apartment, 606.

“So explain again why you wanted to by this again?” Charlie asked as Dean unlocked the door. “You know there’s lots of cheaper full-length mirrors available. They’re lighter too.”

It wasn’t until they had brought the mirror into the middle of the apartment and Dean had shut the door again that he answered. “Okay, don’t laugh, but I thought I saw someone in it.”

Charlie looked at him in confusion. “Um, forgive me if I’m wrong, but I think that was your reflection.”

He smacked her shoulder lightly. “Not me, I meant. Someone else. I mean, I don’t know,” he added in defense, “I couldn’t really see past all the dust.” As he spoke, he began removing the paper until the only thing covering the glass was the thick layer of dust.

“You bought a haunted mirror?” Charlie asked as Dean walked into the kitchen to retrieve a rag.

“Look,” Dean sighed. He came back to stand next to her in front of the mirror. “I know it sounds stupid.”

“No, no, I’m just questioning your thought process. I mean, there was a possibility it was haunted and you decided to bring it home with you. You’re the person who dies in the horror movie, you know that, right?”

“I’m not going to die,” Dean insisted, but made no move to clear the dust off the mirror. For a moment, they both just stood staring at it, as if waiting for something to jump out. When nothing happened, Dean sighed, rolling back his shoulder. “Alright. Okay. Here goes nothing.”

Charlie leaned back slightly to put some distance between her and the mirror as Dean wiped a thick line through the dust, clearing most of it away from the middle of the mirror. His reflection stared back at him, his apartment – and Charlie – in the background.

No blue eyes. No dark eyebrows.

Dean took a step back, angling his head for a different angle. Still he could see nothing out of the ordinary. A hand landed on his back and he jumped in surprise, biting back a shout. It was only Charlie, coming to stand next to him; she glanced at him quickly but didn’t comment, too busy staring at the mirror again.

“I don’t see anything,” she said, leaning forward.

“I swear it was there before.”

“The ghost?” she asked incredulously. Standing back up straight again, she side-eyed him with a raised eyebrow. “I think your novels are starting to mess with your brain.” Dean only huffed in reply. “No really, too much exposure to the horror genre.”

Dean didn’t even reply; he was too busy staring at the completely normal – and not paranormal in any visible way – mirror. Charlie patted him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna let myself out; have fun with your mirror.” She only received a distracted nod in reply.

The door shut with a soft click behind her; Dean remained where he was, searching for blue eyes in the glass.


End file.
